"I s'pose you cal'late," began Atkins, "that maybe I've got a grudge against you on account of this mornin' and that 'Balm' and such. I ain't."
"That's good. I'm glad to hear it."
"Yes. After the fust dose of that stuff--for thunder sakes WHAT did you put in it?--I was about ready to murder you, but I've got over that. I don't blame you for gettin' even. We are even, you know."
"I'm satisfied, if you are."
"I be. But what I don't understand is why you didn't want to show them folks around."
"Oh, I don't know. I had my reasons, such as they were. Why didn't you want to do it yourself?"
Seth crossed his legs and was silent for a moment or two. Then he spoke firmly and as if his mind was made up.
"Young feller," he said, "I don't know whether you realize it or not, and perhaps I shouldn't be the one to mention it--but you're under some obligations to me."
His companion nodded. "I realize that," he said.
"Yes, but maybe you don't realize the amount of the obligations.
I'm riskin' my job keepin' you here. If it wa'n't for the superintendent bein' such a friend of mine, there'd have been a reg'lar assistant keeper app'inted long ago. The gov'ment don't pick up its lightkeepers same as you would farm hands. There's civil service to be gone through, and the like of that. But you wanted to stay, and I've kept you, riskin' my own job, as I said.
And now I cal'late we'd better have a plain understandin'. You've got to know just what your job is. I'm goin' to tell you."
He stopped, as if to let this sink in. Brown nodded again. "All right," he observed, carelessly; "go on and tell me; I'm listening."
"Your job around the lights you know already, part of it. But there's somethin' else. Whenever men folks come here, I'll do my share of showin' the place off. But when women come--women, you understand--you've got to be guide. I'll forgive you to-day's doin's. I tried to play a joke on you, and you evened it up with a better one on me. That's all right. But, after this, showin' the lights to females is your job, and you've got to do it--or get out.
No hard feelin's at all, and I'd really hate to lose you, but THAT'S got to be as I say."
He rose, evidently considering the affair settled. Brown caught his coat and pulled him back to the bench.
"Wait, Atkins," he said. "I'm grateful to you for your kindness, I like you and I'd like to please you; but if what you say is final, then--as they used to say in some play or other--'I guess you'll have to hire another boy.'"
"What? You mean you'll quit?"
"Rather than do that--yes."
"But why?"
"For reasons, as I told you. By the way, you haven't told me why you object to acting as guide to--females."
"Because they are females. They're women, darn 'em!"
Before his helper could comment on this declaration, it was repeated. The lightkeeper shook both his big fists in the air.
"Darn 'em! Darn all the women!" shouted Seth Atkins.
"Amen," said John Brown, devoutly.
Seth's fists dropped into his lap. "What?" he cried; "what did you say?"
"I said Amen."
"But--but . . . why . . . you didn't mean it!"
"Didn't I?" bitterly. "Humph!"
Seth breathed heavily, started to speak once more, closed his lips on the words, rose, walked away a few paces, returned, and sat down.
"John Brown," he said, solemnly, "if you're jokin', the powers forgive you, for I won't. If you ain't, I--I . . . See here, do you remember what you asked me that night when you struck me for the assistant keeper's job? You asked me if I was married?"
Brown assented wonderingly. "Why, yes," he said, "I believe I did."
"You did. And I ain't been so shook up for many a day. Young feller, I'm goin' to tell you what no other man in Ostable County knows. I AM married. I've got a wife livin'."